


Not Promised Tomorrow

by Nicholicious



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Follows main Overwatch timeline, Gerard is only mentioned, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Romance, slight depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicholicious/pseuds/Nicholicious
Summary: Angela Ziegler thought her days couldn't get more dull. Thankfully, she meets someone. But good times hardly ever last.(Story of Mercy & Widowmaker meeting before Overwatch falls.)





	1. The Way you Say Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic slightly reflects myself in that i finally forced myself to try and get an AO3 account only to learn that there's a wait and i'll miss the opportunity to write holiday fics, but it's chill. Also, the years are an estimate based on mixing what people have heard on the dates in overwatch. This is my first ever fic, if it's to yer standards, fantastic. Can't wait to be a part of the community on ao3! With that out of the way, lets get started.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela regrets that she didn't make the most of her holidays.

_January 4th, 2066_

It took Angela Ziegler twenty-seven years to process why the holidays are considered the best time of all.

As she comes across this revelation, however, she is seated in her office at Overwatch's Gibraltar station, looking out her window at fluffy flakes forming a rather thick blanket of snow on the ground below her third-story office. The sun shines, but too dully to have an effect towards the frost rimming the windows or the chilly air.

In January.

The good doctor finds herself much less compelled to engage in festivities among the snow knowing the holidays have passed and she's been doing nothing but work, and all for the organization she'd lend her capabilities to for as long as she could remember.

Mercy sees soldiers below her, led by the one and only Jack Morrison, jogging along, performing typical camp exercises.

" _No rest for the weary until the war is won._ "

A sigh escapes longing lips as the blonde recalls how the strike commander had denied Overwatch the holidays off. 

But another voice echoes in her head as well.

" _Bah, you just wish to keep Gerard in his work, and away from me._ "

The playful, accented tone seemed to hide an extreme distaste; If it was true that Overwatch demanded too much of it's members, so much that the organization could be inconsiderate toward family, Angela wouldn't know. She hardly had time for work outside her office. Spare time wasn't quite for family to her, unless she could call the other members of Overwatch family. Being closer to some of them would be nice...

...Some more than others.

Another dreary sigh.

Only, there was one more thing about how Amelie argued time off for the holidays. Angela noticed the strain in her face and voice, the hesitation as Amelie mentioned her husband, an Overwatch captain.

Was she looking at Angela? Intently? Was Angela imagining it? Maybe. No. Maybe.

But either way, those golden irises... Angela only wished she had another chance at the holidays. 

Angela hadn't formed an intimate relationship with many Overwatch members. There was Genji, of course. There was Tracer, there was Winston, Reinhardt... but worktime had remained for everyone, and so off they were, doing their jobs while she did whatever she had been assigned.

Again, she imagined the one woman she felt she truly befriended. Amelie Lacroix, whenever she visited her husband's work, was known for turning heads of men and women alike despite being married.

The time the two had spent together was precious to Angela, although she always wanted more out of it. It was as if every time the two hugged and said goodbye, their warm touches colliding and making Angela feel at home for just another moment, something was missing. As if opportunities had gone through one ear and out the other, as if Angela's adulthood was as uneventful as her time in highschool, even while she constantly wished for something more out of each day.

She chided herself. Life isn't like a fantasy. She should know that.

It was as if each uneventful day whisked by so fast that she hardly got the chance to be worried about tomorrow...

A knock on the door. The angel stands and hastily makes her way over, swiftly turning the handle. Finally, something, anything to get Angela out of her thoughts--

She finds the core of her every contemplation on the other side.

"Amelie!" Angela exclaims in her light voice, surprised with a hint of glee.

"Evening, _docteur_." Angela's greeting was returned by a charming grin. "May I...?"

"Ah-" Angela stepped aside and gestured to her office, her face reddening. "Y-yes! Please, come in." 

Amelie entered the office gracefully, though not for the first time. She smiled. "I trust you are doing as well as I left you, Angela?"

"Oh, you know. Work..." Angela anxiously regarded the files on her desk. 

Amelie looked away, clearly pondering. It seemed like whatever was on her mind was tough.

Something was off between the two. Angela tried again at conversation. "So... sorry Gerard isn't around. He's been stationed in Russia, which I must say-"

"I do not wish to talk about him." Amelie cut Angela off. "I would..." Now Amelie looked shy. "much rather talk about you?"

Angela's heart fluttered at the look she received right then.

After a moment, Angela asked "Would you like to sit?"

Amelie nodded and took a step in the direction of the chair on the opposite side of where the doctor normally sat, at her desk.

"No no, ah..." Angela looked to another door connected to her office. "Come with me?" Amelie followed as the two made the short venture from Angela's office to her quarters. 

The rug on Angela's floor was flipped at the corner and turned at an odd angle. Blankets were strewn wildly across the bed and some on the floor, having previously been used to quell the chilly temperatures of late. A couple empty plates and a quarter-full mug of cold coffee sat on a table at the foot of the bed. The window next to the bed gave a nice view of Gibraltar's now-snowy beaches. Angela hurried to the couch adjacent to the bed, sitting crisscross.

Angela looked around timidly as Amelie took a seat next to her, grabbing a blanket to drape the two of them in while they sat. "It's quite a mess, I apologize-"

"What about you?" 

Angela's eyes darted to Amelie with mild shock. "W-what about me?" 

Slightly baggy blue eyes clashed with yellow. "We are here to talk about you, _mon ange_. Are you... alright?"

Angela blinked. "Well, I'm okay I suppose. Healthy, -"

Amelie leaned slightly closer. "Are you happy?" 

Angela noted how she could feel some of Amelie's warm breath against the very tip of her nose in the cool unconditioned air. 

"Maybe..." Angela said slowly. With the same pace, she muttered; "But I would imagine there's always room for improvement."

The dark haired woman in Angela's presence only provided a smirk. 

_She's leaning further forward at such an agonizing pace..._ Angela thought.

"Do you suppose I could..." Amelie's smirk stopped growing.

Angela looked to her friend in horror at what she'd let herself be set up against. 

Amelie let loose a low chuckle. "...lighten your mood?"

Angela cried out in laughter as the french woman before her tickled her feet. Amelie kept her usual subtle visage as she entertained her Swiss friend, feeling the laughter relieve her, as if taking anvils off her heart. 

Angela tried to resist, kicking all over, but this only encouraged Amelie to place herself over Angela on the couch as she began to tickle everywhere.

Christmas lights still decorated the ceiling of Angela's room.

Perhaps this was all she was missing during the holidays.

Angela remembered she could fight back by counter-tickling, and so the two ensued in a rolling-tickling-fit, throwing their tangled bodies onto the bed as they giggled, actively trying to draw out each other's laughter. 

Angela so loved Amelie's true laugh. It was more than just a pleasant sound; it was a rarity that Angela greedily tried to pull endlessly from the taller woman.

The two finally settled on a truce, faces content as they regained their breath. 

Angela's breath got caught in her throat, however, when she opened her eyes to find Amelie's body on the bed next to hers, their limbs still tangled in a near-hug, faces parallel. 

Angela wished it was a sight she got more often.

"Angela?"

"Yes?"

"Is this... to your liking?"

Angela felt as if she was near tearing up. This was all she ever wanted; someone to spend her boring life with.

" _Yes._ "

Amelie moved closer. Their lips brushed. She murmured, "And this?"

Angela could feel their breath merge. She saw the concern in Amelie's eyes & moved her hands to cup her cheeks. 

The two moved closer than they had ever been. Closer than Angela had ever been with anyone during her time in Overwatch.

Amelie's arms hugged Angela at the waist, kissing her more fervently, showing something she had clearly been bottling up for a long time. As for Angela, she had found her missing puzzle piece. They played footsie while their lips collided, their legs also active with one another. 

Angela clutched all of Amelie that she could, as if they could not get close enough.

"Please stay the night?"

"I will. And Angela, darling..."

"Mm, _liebling?_ "

"I'm sorry I hadn't done this sooner."

"You have no idea."

~+~

Angela awoke the next morning with a happy heart. She turned her head in the bed to find herself alone.

Not wavered by this, she arose from her bed and got redressed before entering her office. 

Also empty.

Angela exited into the hall, sure she would find that familiar lithe french frame in the mess hall. Instead she encountered Watchpoint guardsmen who warned her to stay back. 

She felt the knot in her stomach tighten again, as it had been for months. She felt dread settle in her broken heart.

There had been a breach overnight.

Amelie was captured.

But they would meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you liked. This is the timeline the fic follows, it could be accurate, or it could be faulty. oops.  
> -30 Years (2046): Omnic Crisis Begins.  
> -35 Years (2051): Overwatch Founded.  
> -40 Years (2056): Omnic Crisis Ends.  
> -57 Years (2073): Overwatch Disbanded.  
> -60 Years (2076): Present Time in game


	2. Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Widowmaker wonders if her sleepless state is her divine opportunity to stare perpetually at an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: yet again i inspired myself a plot by applying how i can never satisfy meself with enough widowmercy before sleep.

_May 13th, 2071_

Life would be pain, she was sure. 

If she could feel.

The days were always without a delight as she kept her rifle at bay, and the nights were no fun either; sleep made for too easy of a kill.

But there Widowmaker sat on just another night, staking out atop a hotel based on nothing but a hunch that Overwatch had agents in Seattle. She swore she felt a remnant of some form of suffering.

It couldn't be boredom, no - the woman had been programmed to be patient, whether she knew it or not. Yet a some sort of feeling ebbed her on as she grappled off of the hotel to a nearby rooftop and raised a hand to her ear.

With the push of a button, she had a better view of the hotel residents as she activated her visor. Widowmaker removed her sniper from its strap on her back and took a view from her scope, looking for a face that matched Overwatch personnel. 

Her vision snapped to the same room, to a halo being removed as what seemed like an angel propped themselves in bed. The spider had lost interest in searching for anyone else in the hotel hours ago.

" _Widowmaker._ " a voice drawled into her comm. 

She sighed, not moving her eyes off of the target she'd acquired. 

Widowmaker activated her comm. "Oui?" 

" _Have you... found anyone yet?_ " Her commander spat.

"...No." she'd muttered confidently before she knew what she was doing.

She realized just what that pleasurable annoyance she felt was as she looked over curves & blonde hair that she swore she knew. It was familiarity.

How had familiarity led her to spare a defenseless target? To disclose the information of her location to her superior?

She couldn't seem to look at this woman enough. Widowmaker curiously watched her toss and turn in her sleep, confused as to where she knew the angel from.

She narrowed her eyes as the woman got up, mumbling to herself, "What a pretty little flower you are..." 

The blonde slowly made the way to her window, apparently as sleepless as Widow. 

_Hide_ , she thought. _What would you do if Angela sees you?_

Angela. 

She had retrieved a fragment of her memory. A name she did not remember learning. Widow slung her rifle onto her back again and was about to deactivate her visor when she felt her gaze being shot back.

Her yellow eyes sought blue from the opposite side of the gap.

The far-away ocean she met with seemed fearless. Stronger. Widow was able to acknowledge that this was... different.

Visor still hiding her identity, keeping the azure irises from reaching her gold ones, Widowmaker refused to give any form of greeting to Angela, not even waving hello as she swiftly left hardly seconds after Angela had even noticed her.

But she wasn't really gone.

If Widow couldn't satisfy her eyes with her prey tonight, it'd be okay. She had recalled something from her previous life.

Deep down, she hoped there were more memories to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A short transition chapter for ya, cuz i feel like it's gonna be necessary. Theres more to come, darlings, i promise.


	3. Seven-eyed Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela reminisces about her time with Amelie three years prior, when she had been taken from her. The angel's absentmindedness gets her somewhere she didn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been readin, and to all my supportive friends for bein betas. lazy ones, but still. Had a fun first couple days already after gettin meself an ao3 account, hopefully it lasts. This chapter hasnt been edited by anyone but me, so id like to hear some fresh-eyed interpretations because i was iffy on the final product, thought it needed more. Lemme know what you think.

_May 15, 2071_

It took Angela Ziegler thirty years to make a connection between helping others and helping herself.

This discovery did not come quite as easily as the last.

Her objective in Seattle was to investigate Talon activity, though Angela suspected Talon was there for similar plans; to seek out Overwatch.

Searching the alleys for any sort of crime that could be connected to Talon, Mercy and Tracer cautiously strolled about in the blue night.

"Oi! You happen to find these patrol missions boring at all, luv?"

Angela was bored by many things in her field of work, besides the parts where she felt she truly helped those in need; civilians, innocents. "Mostly, yes, Lena." She sounded exasperated.

The two searched in silence for a few moments before Tracer spoke up again.

"Say, Angela. Can I talk t'you bout something... private?" The usually bubbly brit was suddenly timid.

Good, a chance to help. "Ah... I suppose."

"Have you ever been... in love?" Tracer was obviously trying to sift out her shyness, adding romantic effect to her tone. 

Angela kept her own feelings out of it, giving a fake giggle whilst returning Tracer's gaze. "I - ah, Once or twice." A pause. "Why do you ask?"

Lena eyed the brick walls as they slowed their walking pace before responding. "It's just, theres this person. A girl. Wonderful lady, she is, Angie! Shes - well, she's _everything!_ Though I'm just... not quite sure how to tell her."

Angela's heart ached, wishing she could relate. Wishing she had someone to call hers. "I'd try to help, but when I met someone," Lena turned her head, an intrigued expression displayed on her youthful face. Angela continued. 

"They made the first move. And the last." 

Tracer looked like she was about to say something sympathetic, however the two stopped dead in their tracks when they saw a faint shadow swing, heard a far-away grunt, and finally the sound of a body hitting the floor. Gunshots rang out.

The two backed up before Tracer readied her pistols. Thugs rounded the corner, running from Talon operatives in a turf war. The pair from Overwatch tried their best to avoid the crossfire, Angela flying after a dashing Tracer.

A bullet clipped her wing once, twice, and another time, before one shot finally grazed her shoulder, causing Angela to fall, recovering quickly. They were far enough away by then, heading past a brick building and into cover.

Tracer analyzed the battered wings and slightly - albeit increasingly - bloody scrape, preparing herself to have an impact on the nearby conflict. "You wait roight here, Angie. 'L be back before you know it!" She whispered.

Angela, who was backed up against the wall, nodded steadily as Tracer flashed around the corner.

Left to her thoughts, Angela's mind couldn't help but go back and imagine once more what it was like to spend that short time with Amelie. Angela knew that she had returned after being kidnapped, though not for long. Halfway across the world from Gibraltar, Angela was informed far too late that Amelie had come back safely only to disappear mysteriously before her husband, Gerard, had been found dead.

He had been assassinated, and a year later the murderer still hadn't been found.

Although, the two did meet after Gerard's death. Angela had not heard the news about Gerard just yet, nor had she heard of Amelie's return or second leave, but when they were together, Amelie had been on her knees.

She had begged Angela to end the pain - or did she say to end her numbness? Whatever she meant, one request was somewhat clear. She wanted Angela to take her before "they" do. 

Amelie blabbered on about nonsense, but as Angela continuously asked her to calm down, she eventually did.

Only to knock Angela out and leave her with an " _I'm sorry._ "

Overwatch was never informed of the time Angela saw Amelie again, though it didn't seem like telling would help-

A click.

-Angela was being watched. Just as she had been the nights before. She knew it. She stepped away from the wall frantically.

The medic heard a sound to her left - no, her right - or was it behind her?

She had turned all the way around, changing from clockwise to counter, before stopping as a subtle whizz akin to a zipline - though much quieter - went on for a couple moments.

Above her.

Warm breath tingled on the back of her neck.

An internal, low chuckle came from the woman just behind her. " _Mon ange_?" A smile could be heard in the sultry voice.

Angela slowly turned, horror building up.

The seven red eyes she was met with were the same that followed her each night and had carved their way into her dreams. This time, they were suspended in air, facing Angela upside-down. 

The woman was hanging from the building.

A hand moved down to tap the side of the visor, moving their faces closer as it opened.

Angela's heart skipped a beat.

"Ame-!"

Widowmaker smirked, putting a finger to Angela's lips to keep her from making that mistake. Their noses were practically touching. "Hello again. _Darling_."

Mercy looked off to the side, shouting and footsteps growing louder, closer.

Next thing Angela knew, she was being pulled up with someone who used to be Amelie Lacroix.

Angela wondered; Was she still?

~+~

The two were flung into the air as the grapple's pull reached the top of the building and retracted to Widow's gauntlet. They spun gracefully, making eye contact for a moment, thrill running through Angela before she landed on all fours, taking deep breaths. Widowmaker flipped over her and landed slightly crouched, but stood straight. Her purple ponytail eventually settled.

She had her back to Angela.

Angela's strong façade that she managed among Overwatch members crumbled at the sight of the blue-skinned woman that she used to know. Eerie silence fell over them once Angela had caught her breath. 

Widow turned slowly.

She had a cruel smile, making it clear that she knew how she tortured her angel.

Angela stood. She wanted to fight her feelings, to not forgive. But the high she already felt...

The terror.

"You have my apologies for the fright," Widow murmured mischievously. She didn't mean it.

The blonde inched closer, but there was still several feet between them. "You..."

"Ah, yes. About me." The assassin confidently took three paces, closing the gap. She leaned in to put their heights at the same level, uttering the words; "Just who am I?"

"Why should I tell you anything, you _murderer_." Even as she said it, Angela considered the possibilities.

Widow huffed. "We both know you do not mean that." She traced a finger along Mercy's jawline, watching intently. Her finger stopped at Angela's chin.

The french woman trailed her other set of fingers along Mercy's bleeding shoulder, making disappointed - almost _concerned_ noises.

The emotionless killer must've been trying to hide a blush.

The pretty doctor sure was.

Angela shivered, feeling the strangest kinds of pain and pleasure from how she was being touched, looking around nervously but not pulling away. This was not the woman she knew, she told herself. Could she be?

Widow lowered her hand from the blonde's chin as she stepped back, however her hand stayed extended as a sort of offer. "Now, if you would care to join me..."

She was prepared to deny her feelings, ready to shake her head no. To say it would take more convincing than that, and she isn't risking her life entrusting herself with whoever she was talking to - Amelie or Widowmaker.

"You must get your shoulder treated, no? I have the proper supplies."

Something - or maybe someone - in the assassin's eyes told Angela to take a chance.

She didn't have much to lose, she supposed, given how regularly she found her time among Overwatch dull.

With everything that bored her in her line of work, Angela realized the most fun just might be when she helped herself.

That thought put her soft, pale hand into a surprisingly delicate blue one.

The spider pulled her closer, wrapping one arm around her waist. Her other arm was raised, ready to grapple. She chuckled her low chuckle. "Prepared for another ride?"

Angela's absentmindedness had put her somewhere she didn't expect.

Exactly where she wanted to be.

"You have no idea."

With that, the two were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: yeah, tracey's talkin about emily. This is about five years before the game takes place, but id like to think theyd been friends for a nice long while. Also, sorry this chapter wun't longer, but im gonna need a day to figure out for sure what happens next, since it's been heavily improvised up until now. til next time.


	4. Seems So Fitting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now in the spider's den, Angela tries to pry through some fragile webs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding some tags & changing the title to what it was supposed to be. yet again, im the only person who's gone over this, and also yet again, i feel like i coulda fit somethin more in here. i'll have to see what you think.

_May 15, 2071_

Flying had got Angela used to the wind rushing into her face.

And yet, now, with Widowmaker's tight grip upon her, she had a little bit of trouble breathing while they traveled between a few tall buildings.

Widow _finally_ stopped and prepared for a more careful shot that would swing them over to a dark-looking motel below them using a streetlamp. 

Despite the spider's web-slinging skill, the two had a moderately rough landing, upon which Angela grunted.

As if on instinct, the french lady next to her shot an arm out to support her.

They shared a look of confusion that Widow quickly brushed off into a neutral, albeit slightly irritated, expression.

"Your wings auto-repair, do they not?"

"It's a slow process. I'm still working my suit out."

A sigh. "I suppose I should apologize, then."

They used an obviously rusty old door from the roof to get into one of the halls of the motel. "What for?"

"As if cheap thug weaponry could harm your wings. I-" The spider cleared her throat. "I shot you."

Angela demanded an explanation. "You _what_?"

"It was the only way to get you out of the fight, alone."

"I could've been killed!" Angela was bewildered.

Widow offered a shrug. "Worked, did it not?" she murmured, their faces close together even with the wide hallway.

Mercy huffed as she looked away. She was not amused; she refused to be.

Widow opened the door to what must've been her room within the motel. Room 023. "Talon bribed the landlord to secrecy," she explained briefly.

The motel room was rather grey, gloom seemingly seeping through the cracks between the curtains. Walls were damaged here and there, and dust could be seen from what faint moonlight there was as it moved through the air like mist.

Still, it apparently wasn't dirty or faded enough to be uninhabitable.

Angela took a seat on the couch, grasping a spot below her bleeding shoulder. Widow promised to return with medical supplies as she left to the bathroom.

Mercy removed her wings, placing them on an strangely-angled table in front of the couch. Once more with time to herself, Angela admired one thing she had only noticed upon sitting; A wooden stand held a paper canvas, and on it was a heavily detailed painting of a rose. The backdrop was incomplete, as was some of the stem, but the flower itself bloomed fruitfully, almost realistically.

She thought she heard Widow talking to someone, but if she was, the conversation was short lived as the spider sighed.

Widow returned, taking a seat next to Angela on the couch and turning herself to face the injured woman. She began patching her up.

"Ame- ahem. W-Widowmaker," the blonde began, "I was unaware you still draw?"

"Ahh, take the time to appreciate my painting, did you?" She shook her head and chuckled. "It is odd. I do not recall taking art lessons, and yet..."

She barely whispered, speaking directly into Angela's ear. "There are some arts I am _sure_ I've mastered."

Just as Angela was preparing to face her, Widowmaker backed away, letting go of the doctor's easily patched-up arm. "All done. Now, back to who I once was."

Their roles were reversed to their respective jobs. "Why do you want to know?" Mercy didn't sound annoyed, or professionally intrigued; she seemed simply curious.

Like a friend.

_But what is a friend even like?_

"Because my thoughts have been plagued, _docteur_. Thoughts I do not fully understand."

Mercy nodded. "So you wish to understand." 

The widow remained silent.

Her doctor began with the painting. "You cannot say where you learned this, can you?"

"No."

"Have you tried?"

The spider rolled her eyes and looked at the flower. She stood and moved closer to it, eyeing it's center. 

Her hands raised to her temples, palms mashing into her skull in circles. "It hurts... this will get me no-where."

Angela approached timidly and hugged the spider's waist, who struggled initially but gave in to the blonde's head on the taller woman's shoulder.

The doctor spoke softly into her patient's ear.

"You and I learned together. When you visited Overwatch-"

Widowmaker ducked her chin and mumbled bitterly. "That's impossible." 

"What do you mean?"

"Why would I associate with them when... Angela, Overwatch _killed_ my husband," she uttered.

Angela's face contorted in shock. "No, Ame-"

"I'm sure of it, Angela, I remember..." She stopped.

"Oh, Amelie," 

"No."

What began as a small groan from the french woman turned into cries of pain.

Widow's head and eyes were flooded as she turned in Mercy's embrace and buried her head in the doctor's good shoulder, crying in agony. 

"Amelie...?"

" _Y-you have to e-end it, Angela, I beg of you_ ,"

"Amelie, Talon wiped your mind. They returned you to Overwatch to murder Gerard, activating your programming that night." 

Amelie sobbed, rapidly shaking her head.

"Do you know the last time I saw you, you begged me just the same? That you left me out cold when I tried to help? Do you know what I have been through because of you? I _loved_ you. And you expect me to kill you?"

Widow choked on her words. " _Please._ "

"There is a better answer than death. You will see; I promise you another tomorrow." She spoke firmly, but she really did sound like she cared. 

"No, Angela, they'll just get me back - they always do..." the spider whimpered.

Angela hugged her tighter, running a comforting hand through her thick purple hair. "Hush, _liebling_..."

Moments passed before Widowmaker pulled away, her lips brushing Angela's cheek for a moment as she sniffled and stepped back.

"I see now... why in another life, I could love a woman like you."

"...Love?"

Their eyes met.

"I - she loved you, Angela. Know that."

Neither of them were ever sure who spoke those words.

Who spoke next was obvious. "Seems fitting, no? That another woman's love would restore what a widow has lost." The blue-skinned woman scoffed miserably.

Where Angela fit into that picture, she wasn't sure. 

She was sure of one thing.

She reached for the spider's cheeks, forcing her downcast eyes up when their lips connected for the first time in so many years. 

Once they pulled away, Widow feigned an innocent demeanor as Angela just giggled. "You were asking for it."

"You wish to see what I was... 'asking' for?" Angela's laughter stopped short at the woman's intense look.

Next thing she knew, she was on the couch, Amelie over her again. The Widowmaker's tongue demanded entrance, which it was granted; Angela submissively laid steady while Amelie nibbled her lover's lip and tongue, one hand bracing her above Angela on the couch and the other gripping her halo.

The blonde glowed in the depressing grey motel room.

"Mmm... Angela~"

The light of Amelie's two lives.

~+~

Yellow eyes fluttered open. She was awake.

Angela slept peacefully in front of her, both of them still on the couch. 

But when Widow tried to get up, Angela sighed, smiling up at her with drowsy eyes. She lazily trailed a finger along the blue woman's hip while the two shared breathing room, rubbing their noses together.

"Good morning," the spider said to her for the first time.

"That's how you do it..." Angela mumbled happily.

Only a minute later, Mercy's eyes shot open as she hopped off the couch. She reached up to her ear.

"What... Lena? I'm fine, no... no, I'll be back soon enou-"

A voice buzzed in the assassin's ear. " _Widowmaker, if you continue to remain unresponsive, drastic measures will be taken to secure-_ "

Widow removed her comm chip from her ear angrily, speaking into it coldly; "You lied to me."

The comm flashed bright red and audio played from it at a higher level than either had expected possible.

"Agent Widowmaker. Zero. Two. Three." The words seemed calculated somehow.

Angela looked up as the woman's teary eyes seemed to widen before dying out to a frozen, dilated gaze.

She stared at Angela once more, devoid of emotion.

An arm raised, and Widowmaker put her lovely light out before she could comprehend the situation.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hope you liked. This is the timeline the fic follows, it could be accurate, or it could be faulty. oops.  
> -30 Years (2046): Omnic Crisis Begins.  
> -35 Years (2051): Overwatch Founded.  
> -40 Years (2056): Omnic Crisis Ends.  
> -57 Years (2073): Overwatch Disbanded.  
> -60 Years (2076): Present Time in game


End file.
